For Reasons Unknown
by nannerpus
Summary: A 22 year old mutant named Zoya comes out to her boyfriend. This single act sends her on a vicious journey she never could have imagined. Rated M for violence and mature themes. Inspired by X-Men Origins. Enjoy, no critique please.
1. Coming Out

_**Warning**__: I'm not a writer. I'm just doing this for fun, so please don't critique and enjoy._

She was nervous. Her heart was beating so hard she could feel it in her throat. She sat at the edge of an old, worn futon. The burgundy sheet on the mattress was slipping off, but she was too preoccupied with her own thoughts to fix it.

_He_ was visiting tonight. He had visited a hundred times before, but tonight was special. She was going to reveal something to him, and she really wasn't sure what he'd think about it.

Zoya Bell stood from the futon and stretched, looking from the clock to the door, back and forth. She paced and scratched her head. She straightened the lavender dress she had ironed twice, until finally the knock on the door she had been anticipating with mixed dread and delight brought her head snapping in it's direction.

She approached it, sighed, and opened it with a big smile, greeting the man on the other side with a hug.

"Tom, hey." She said, bouncing on her heels with anticipation.

"Hey, Zo." Tom returned her smile and gave her a kiss on the cheek after closing the door. The two entered the small studio apartment and took a seat casually on the futon couch. "What's up? 'sounded like a big deal on the phone."

"It's... no big deal." She smiled and tucked her hair behind her ears, looking away bashfully. "Let me get us something to drink. Diet OK?"

"Yeah, sure. Stuff tastes like shit, though."

Zoya stood and walked to the refrigerator. She opened it and grabbed two diet colas from the bottom and closed the fridge, checking her hair in the magnetic mirror on the door before walking back to her boyfriend of three months. She sat beside him and put their drinks on the coffee table.

"Tom I... just have something to share with you." She said, looking more toward the cans of soda than his face.

"Out with it already, Zo." He had time to crack open his soda and take a long sip before Zoya was ready to open her mouth again.

"Look." She sighed. "This is really difficult for me to say but... I really think I should before you and I can... move forward... in this relationship. I mean, it's really... no big deal. I just..."

Tom laughed. "Come on you silly goose. If it's no big deal, then it's no big deal."

Zoya smiled and nodded. "I think it's just better if I show you... I guess."

She focused her attention on her can of diet cola. She remained perfectly still. The can opened seemingly by itself. The crunch of the tab cracking the aluminum and the sound of carbonation rushing out of the newly formed opening seemed to echo in the still and silent room.

"So... you're a..." his voice was quiet.

"I'm not an anything, Tom. It's just... something... I can do." Her face grew worried as she looked up at him. He was pale, his eyebrows furrowed. His fingertips were white as they clenched around the nearly full can in his hand.

"You're a freak!" He stood suddenly, throwing the can of cola across the room. He looked at her, his face contorted with rage and confusion, backing away from her with staggered steps. "A fucking freak!"

She stood also, putting her hands out to touch his arm. "Calm dow-"

"DON'T touch me, just get the FUCK away from me." He backed away faster, turning his back to her. He walked to the door, punching the wall with enough force to leave a crater in the plaster, and slammed the door with brute force as he left.

Zoya stood, stunned, confused and heartbroken as she looked from the dent in one wall to the cola stain splattered on the wall across from her.

Chapter 2. coming soon.


	2. Attack

Two days of classes and work had passed. She hadn't spoken to her boyfriend since the cola incident, and hadn't been able to contact any of her friends. She had noticed growing alienation since that night, but tried not to focus on it with little success. The girl in her physics class that sat next to her every day that semester had suddenly switched seats. There was a three foot radius between her and the other people in line in the cafeteria. People seemed to stop and stare at her as she walked across campus. She knew in her heart that Tom had spread her secret, but refused to acknowledge that possibility. She had just transferred to Marshall Springs University, and wasn't ready to transfer again.

Zoya returned to her apartment, locked the door and slumped onto her futon, this time flattened into a bed. She stared at the indentation left in her wall, lost in the recent memory which caused the dent. Sighing, she sunk back into her pillows and began to open her backpack.

As she slipped her heavy _Philosophy of Linguistics_ text book from her black, zippered bag, a slow, soft knocking caught her attention. She let the book drop back into her backpack and stood, walking curiously toward the door.

She stopped with her hand on the knob. "Who is it?"

"It's me, open up."

"Tom?" She opened the door, surprised to hear the voice of the man who stormed from her apartment only a few days prior. "Tom, hey... I'm..."

She faltered, her voice growing faint as she looked from Tom, to the three other men accompanying him. "Hey Aaron... Luke... Ben... What's going on?"

"I want to talk to you outside." Tom said, failing to meet Zoya's eyes. His voice was stiff and his posture rigid.

"You or all of you?" She felt uneasy. There was something menacing about this visit, and the smell of alcohol lingered around the group of men.

"Just come on, Zo. I really gotta talk to you." Tom tilted his head and looked at her with a serious face. His lips were pursed, and eyebrows close together.

She shook her head. "I'm not going to talk to you in front of all your friends, Tom."

He sighed and rolled his eyes. His friends raised their eyebrows in his direction and grumbled inaudibly under their breath. "I'll meet up with you guys in a little, just... head out."

The three men accompanying Tom left his side, turning and walking down the hall of the apartment complex toward the exit.

Zoya stood, still partially hidden by the door, and watched to make sure Tom's friends found their way out of the building before continuing to speak. "What do you want?"

"Come out here." He said sternly.

"I don't trust you right now."

"Stop acting like this and just come out here. I don't want to talk here."

Zoya looked down and considered leaving with him. She weighed the pros and cons of being in a public place silently and determined she felt safer if she wasn't alone with him. "Well... where do you want to talk?"

"We'll go to that uh... coffee place right down the street."

"Fine... let me get my purse." She closed the door and took a deep breath before finding her purse by the futon bed. She returned to the door and joined Tom, locking it before they walked silently out of the building.

The pair walked for about a block in silence together. Zoya noticed that Tom seemed distant. He was staring down and away from her. She was about to open her mouth when she felt a sudden force pulling her by her arm into a dark alleyway. The surprise caused her to stumble, falling to the side. She pulled her arm away from the strong, shadowed figure and moved her hair from face in time to see the men accompanying her boyfriend only moments earlier.

Tom followed her into the alley and looked down at her, sighing.

Zoya stood, holding her purse, spinning to look the four drunken college students surrounding her. "What's going on, Tom?" Her voice was obviously upset, and it was clear that she knew she was in danger.

"This is a small town, Zo, and Tom told us what you are." It was Luke who was speaking.

Aaron chimed in next. "Yeah, everybody knows, and nobody really likes it."

"I don't want to hurt you guys." Zoya stood still now, her hands clenched into fists. She looked ahead at Tom, her face lit by a street light beside the alley.

She heard the sound of wood splintering before she felt the pain and her legs give way. Ben had cracked a wooden broom stick across the back of her knees. She screamed as the four men closed in on her, punching and kicking whichever part of her body was closest to them. Her thoughts were racing, she could feel how warm her blood was within her. She raised her hands and pushed back half of the broken stick that was barreling toward her without physically touching it.

That small victory wasn't enough to stop the attack. She looked up at Tom in time to see his fist meet her cheek bone. She stretched her mouth wide, releasing a primal, hateful scream. Her clenched fists appeared to glow neon blue. The light emanating from her hands slowly rose upward like smoke from a cigarette. She opened her eyes and saw a black figure tackle Tom. Aaron, Luke and Ben backed away immediately and watched in horror as the figure of a man in a black trench coat tore through Tom's abdomen with razor sharp claws. The three assailants stumbled over each other, unable to scream, and attempted to run out of the alley.

The man in black lifted his head, about to attack them. Zoya slammed her fists into the ground, aiming toward the men running for their lives. From her hands she sent two electric blue streaks of energy racing toward them along the cement. Once the light reached Aaron, it bursted into an indigo and white flaming bubble, incinerating Aaron's body as he screamed helplessly. She saw the man in black smile as he jumped from Tom's lifeless form, loping toward the Ben and Luke like a wild animal.

Zoya stood, weak, and watched him tear their throats open. As he dropped them, the blood pouring from their necks splattered into the light on the sidewalk. Her adrenaline was still pumping as she heaved for breath. She felt satisfied. They were going to kill her. For the moment she felt vindicated. She raised her eyes from the bodies of her attackers to the man in the dark coat. He was looking down at the bodies with a satisfied smile.

"Thanks." She said, holding her ribs. She tried to smile, but the pain she was experiencing prevented her from doing so. She grabbed her purse with one hand.

"Can you walk?" He asked her, his voice with a cold ring.

"Not very fast."

He approached her and helped her onto his back. "Hold on."

Ch. 3 Coming soon.


	3. Motel

The stranger carried Zoya on his back, galloping through alleyways and climbing city buildings, remaining unseen by pedestrians. They could hear the sirens of police cars and ambulances howling on their way to investigate the crime scene they were fleeing. He smelled wild, like blood mixed with the scent of the forest. As she held her arms firmly around the stranger's neck she thought carefully about the actions that took place. The adrenaline and vindication she felt ebbed away and was replaced with confusion and regret. She had just killed somebody. She was riding on the back of somebody who just murdered her boyfriend and two of his friends.

_They were going to kill me first._ She thought. _It was self-defense. Everybody knows I'm different now... they were going to kill me first._

The man carrying her continued to run from the city for nearly an hour before they stopped at a motel in the outer-edges of a rural town miles from the small city they were escaping.

He let her drop from his back and looked at her bruised face, tilting his head with a repugnant look on his face.

She looked down at the mars on her legs. "Thanks... again..."

"You got any money?" He asked gruffly.

"Y-yeah... I mean..." She opened her purse and pulled out her wallet. She showed him the five dollar bill and debit card inside.

He sighed. "Well that's no good."

"I'm sorry, I mean... if you want some more I can find an ATM or..."

He raised his eyebrows. "I mean for the motel room. You're probably going to want to sleep somewhere tonight."

"Oh... right... well... I guess... I can't go home and... I'm sure... my credit card..." she stumbled over her words, unable to form a coherent sentence. "I killed Aaron... I... they... the police..."

The stranger laughed at her. She looked up at his face and saw the fangs in his sneer. He wiped his bloody hands on the inside of his trench coat. "I guess you're new to this." His voice carried an air of dry sarcasm with everything he said. He turned his back and lead her into the motel lobby.

The man at the desk was a small, elderly man with thick glasses. He looked from the trenchcoat man to Zoya with wide eyes. "Do you need to go to the hospital, honey?"

"She's fine. We need a room." The stranger said, leaning over the counter, scratching the surface with his long, sharp fingernails.

Apparently intimidated, the man at the register simply nodded and they completed the transaction.

After receiving the key, Zoya followed the stranger to the motel room. They entered and looked around at their surroundings. The bed spread was worn and navy blue in color. The television looked vintage, with a small screen and knobs to control it. There was a small table in the corner beside a floor lamp and a cushioned chair the same color as the bed.

Zoya immediately dropped her purse and crawled onto the bed, eager to rest her body and calm her mind. She looked at the man she knew so little about. "What's your name?"

"That's not important." He said without hesitation, turning his back toward the door again.

"Where are you going?" She sat up, groaning a little as the movement renewed pain in her ribs.

He said nothing. She clearly understood that she was not worth his time, but she pressed on, closing the door telepathically as soon as he opened it. He turned and looked at her. "Neat trick."

"You saved my life." She looked at him imploringly. "I just... murdered... Aaron... I... don't want to be alone..."

He continued to stand across the room from her. He appeared annoyed as he thought to himself. He took a few steps forward and leaned against a wall. He picked at his claws silently.

"Why did you save me?" She asked, now hugging her knees to her chest as she sat up on the bed.

He laughed and scratched his head awkwardly, looking off to the side with a full smile. "It was fun, I guess."

"Killing those guys?" she held a grimace on her face.

"Yeah."

"Why didn't you kill me then?"

"Who says I wont?" He looked up at her, smiling coyly still.

"You wouldn't waste your time helping me if you were just going to kill me." She sighed and lied back into the stiff, motel pillow. They sat there in silence for a moment.

"That was my boyfriend, Tom... and his friends." Zoya began. She didn't know why she was sharing with this stranger, he obviously was uninterested. She felt she just needed to talk to somebody make sense of everything that just occurred. "I told him a couple days ago what I was and he freaked out. He told everybody at school, they all know now... I can't go back there... they were going to kill me... the cops... they're going to find me... what have I done..."

The stranger didn't react. She wasn't even sure if he was listening to her, or if she cared that he wasn't. They were silent again for a few moments before he finally spoke. "They were gonna kill you for being a mutant. They deserved to die."

"I could have stopped them without killing them."

"But you got angry. It felt good, didn't it. After you killed them. You felt good about it, didn't you." He leaned forward in her direction, smiling viciously.

She looked away and didn't answer. She didn't want to admit to him that he was right. The sense of justice she felt, the pride she experienced as she saw that her attackers were dead was overwhelming, but the guilt and remorse she was feeling at that moment overshadowed everything.

She waited until enough time lapsed that the previous topic felt taboo to discuss any further. "I don't have anywhere to go. I was a foster kid... I don't have a family... I switched schools twice... now everybody knows what I've done... I can't blend in anymore."

"You shouldn't have to pretend to be human." He replied with a tone of disgust. "You're not one of them."

"...I still don't have anywhere to go... I don't have anyone."

The stranger sighed, clearly irritated. "I know a place you can go. It's this... underground... mutant community... I'll take you there if you want but I have work to do on the way."

"I guess I don't have a choice." She said grimly. "Thanks."

He didn't say anything in return, and once again the room grew silent.

"So... what's your name?" She asked after a few minutes, turning slowly onto her side so that her back was facing him.

"Victor." He said shortly.

No more was said between them, and Zoya fell asleep.

Chapter 4 coming soon.


	4. Plane

"Hey. Wake up." Zoya nudged Victor in the shoulder, shaking him gently as he slept in the chair. He awoke, violently gripping her arm with incredible strength. She gasped, her mouth wide open, so surprised by the situation that she could not scream. He stared at her, his teeth gnarled, letting her go after fully recognizing her.

She rubbed her arm and stepped back, staring back at him with a hurt and confused expression. She leaned forward to pick up two bottles she had dropped after he had grabbed her arm. "I got you some orange juice from the vending machine..."

He snatched one of the bottles from her outstretched hand without apology or thanks. Zoya took a seat on the edge of the bed, still rubbing her arm tenderly where he had just grabbed her. They sat in familiar silence.

"Let's get going. We have a plane to catch." Victor stood. Zoya followed suit and followed him out the door.

"A plane?" She asked. "I don't have any money for a ticket."

"Don't you worry about that." He said, stopping at a pay phone to call a cab.

The pair rode silently together to a small municipal airport. Zoya looked out of the window curiously at the single private luxury plane parked in the runway. Once the cab pulled to a stop, she followed behind Victor toward the plane she took notice to. The pilot standing beside the plane showed them inside and then disappeared into the cockpit.

"A private plane? What do you do?"

Victor took his seat and crossed his legs. He looked up at her with a bored expression and said with an equally bored voice "Freelance."

Zoya sat across the aisle from him and sighed. Her body was still bruised and sore, and her clothes were dirty from the altercation the night before. She did her best to avoid thinking about the murders she was escaping from and instead focused her attention to learning about her travel-mate. She watched him pick at his long, sharp fingernails.

"Looks like you need a manicure." She said after a moment's silence.

"I've never heard that one before." He sighed sarcastically, not looking up.

She sighed defeatedly and leaned back in her seat, folding her arms across her chest. "When did you find out you were a mutant?"

Victor hesitated to answer. "I was really young. Ten? Twelve?"

"I was six when I found out I could move things." Zoya said looking out the window. The plane shook as it began to take off. "My parents gave me up for adoption after that. I was fourteen when I first learned I could use energy."

"What are you now? Sixteen?" He replied dryly.

"Twenty-two." She responded, ignoring the fact he was feigning interest. "Where are we going?"

"Arkansas. Then South Dakota, and Colorado."

"What's there?"

"My work."

"You travel a lot, why were you in Indiana?"

Victor sighed again, this time with a hint of aggravation. His voice was aggressive, threatening and animalistic. "Are you going to stop asking questions or do you want me to rip your throat open?"

Zoya sat straighter and didn't respond. They shared silence for close to fifteen minutes.

"I was there to kill some rich old bastard." Victor finally said.

"You're an assassin?" she asked quietly, looking at him hesitantly.

"Call it what you want. I get paid to kill people." He looked at her. "I mix business with pleasure."

She looked away again wearing an objectionable facial expression, choosing to stare out the window and watch the plane ascend into the clouds. She was deep in thought about this whirlwind experience. Her boyfriend's death, the man she murdered, the killer she followed so blindly and now has no choice but to trust. Her head began to pound from all the stress, so she closed her eyes and breathed deeply, forcing herself to fall asleep.

Chapter 5 coming soon. :)


	5. Shower

The bouncing of the plane shook Zoya awake with a jump. Startled, she looked over at Victor to see him folding away a magazine. She sat up taller and observed her new surroundings from the window as the plane rolled to a halt. Once it stopped completely, Zoya followed Victor out of the airplane and into a waiting cab. They rode without speaking to a middle class hotel. Victor checked in, they rode the elevator to the ninth floor, and then found the room they would be sharing.

The room was considerably nicer than the motel room. The bed was double the size and the bedding was beige with modern accents. There was a sofa and recliner a few feet away from the bed, and a large, flat screened television atop an elegant black dresser.

Zoya took a seat on the sofa and looked up at Victor. "Thanks for helping me."

As she predicted, he didn't say anything in return. He was inspecting the main room and bathroom with seemingly little interest. She adjusted herself so that her back was resting against the arm rest and pulled her legs onto the cushions.

"Victor... are you hungry?"

"I'm leaving." He said shortly, his voice gruff. "Order something from room service if you need to eat."

"Thank you." She said fruitlessly to his back as he walked out the door. She sighed and turned on the television. She stood from the couch after watching a documentary about jungle life for a few moments. She circled the hotel room, opening the dresser drawers curiously, flipping through a mormon bible from the bottom drawer. She put it away and stretched her aching limbs, able to smell her dirty clothes as her arms stretched beside her head. She frowned and checked to see that the time was six o'clock in the evening already. She began to remove her clothes in favor of a clean hotel bathrobe and called room service, ordering spaghetti and dry cleaning services.

After eating and giving the bellboy her clothes, she jumped into the shower. The water pressure was perfect. The temperature relaxed her for a few moments before she let her mind get the better of her again. She thought of Aaron screaming, his body entangled in unnatural indigo flames. Tom's disemboweled body only feet away from her. The blood spattering from Luke and Ben into the lamplight. The sickening joy she felt as they fell. She scrubbed every inch of her body, progressively with more and more pressure as she tried to clean herself of the guilt she was experiencing from the night before. She sunk against the wall, allowing herself to fall to the floor, hugging her knees and sobbing relentlessly. She eventually climbed out of the shower, crawling toward the toilet. She cried still as she hovered over it, the violent images lodged into her memory. She vomited and then lied down on the floor, gasping and moaning to herself in anguish.

An hour passed. Two, maybe, before she was finally able to bring herself to stop crying. She stood and wiped her face, assuring herself that it was self defense, that it was OK. They had wanted to kill her. She brushed her teeth and hair, staring at herself in the mirror. She put the bathrobe on again and left the bathroom.

She sat once more on the couch, pulling her knees to her chest, trying to keep her mind focused on the television. After a few moments she heard the door open. She looked up to see Victor entering, his hands covered with blood. She stood, tightening her robe around her body, intimidated by his appearance.

He stopped and looked at her bare legs, smiling to himself coyly.

"I'm having my clothes dry-cleaned... I... didn't have anything else to put on..." She held her robe tightly, intimidated by his lustful expression. She took a side step toward the corner, which prompted him to approach her slowly. She began to stutter. "I... I... I th-thought I'd have g-gotten them back b-by now..."

He reached her in a matter of moments and grabbed her arm, turning her and shoving her chest into the wall, holding her there. She cold feel the fresh blood on her skin and she closed her eyes, taking deep breaths. His face was in her neck, breathing in her scent.

"I d-don't want to hurt you, Victor." She said even though she knew she was overpowered.

He laughed at her mercilessly, pulling open her robe and grabbing one of her breasts.

She opened her eyes and looked frantically. She focused on a glass vase holding bright yellow exotic flowers. She sent it whirling toward them, smashing into the side of Victor's face. Cold water rushed down the back of her robe and he let go of her for a moment, startled and touching his face.

She took this moment to back away from him, running to a corner on the other side of the room. She held her arms up and lifted the bed into the air on it's side as a shield and crouched, pressing herself as far into the corner as she could.

Victor breathed deeply, watching her try to protect herself. He laughed, grinning with his fangs bared. "Looks like you don't want to make this easy on me."

"Please... Victor..." Zoya pleaded frantically. "I d-don't want to hurt you... I... don't w-want to fight..."

He approached the bed hiding her deliberately. "Then don't fight." He slashed at the bed with his claws, splitting it into two pieces. He grabbed her hair and pulled her to her feet again, slamming her back against the wall.

She flicked the television toward him but he anticipated it, deflecting it before it touched him. She sunk hopelessly as he held her up and began to cry once more.

He laughed heartlessly and observed her bruised face, neck and chest, but failed to notice the blue light charging in her left hand. He reached his hand down to unzip his pants, giving her just the right opportunity to shove her hand against his chest, sending him flying toward the opposite wall, leaving his chest burned and a large indentation of his back in the plaster. He didn't move. Blood dripped from where the back of his head hit the wall. She stood still, her back against the wall, heaving for breath, tears streaming down her cheeks.

"V-victor..." she whispered. She felt satisfied again, his broken looking body crumpled onto the floor. She smiled slightly and laughed. She had won, she knew it. She tied her robe shut once more and sidled toward the door. She had to get her clothes back, she had to leave.

Victor groaned, lifting his neck. Zoya stopped and looked at him with wide eyes as a deer caught in headlights would. He stood slowly, rolling his neck, lifting his gaze to meet hers.

Her lips trembled. Her white hotel robe was smeared with some one else's blood. She hadn't won, he was standing up again. He was healing before her eyes. His laugh rang out once more, cold and cruel.

She flung the door open with telepathy and ran as fast as she could down the hall, throwing open the stairwell door, racing to the front desk to retrieve her clothes and escape.

Chapter 6 coming soon.


	6. Found

There weren't many people in the hallway, but those wandering the corridors and lobby of the hotel were justifiably stunned to see Zoya sprinting toward the front desk wearing only a blood streaked robe. She was running so quickly she couldn't stop herself from slamming into the counter. The concierge, a thin African American woman with wide eyes, jumped, unsure what to say after Zoya frantically explained how desperately she needed her clothing. The woman, whose name tag read Anna, blinked, shocked by her appearance and frantic screaming.

"Miss, do you need me to call an ambulance?" Anna flared her nostrils and curled her lips downward in an unpleasant but concerned face.

"I just need my god damned clothes!" Zoya screamed, spotting a bellboy standing by holding a dry-cleaning bag. She tilted her head back, causing the clothes to fly from his arms to hers.

She ran out of the hotel room with the dry-cleaning bag pressed tightly against her chest. She ran into a field being cleared for further urban development and into a thicket of woods. She continued to run until the thicket became a forest, and until she tripped over the root of an old, large sycamore tree, scraping her knees as she fell. She scrambled up and changed from the blood-stained robe to her blue jeans and striped shirt, tossing the bag they were in aside. Her socks and shoes were back at the hotel, and it was a cold night. She dropped and leaned against the tree defeatedly. She had gotten away from him at least. That's all that mattered for now. He said their last stop was Colorado, that must be where the mutant community was... she could make it there on her own.

She breathed deeply and looked at the bloody robe strewn across the fallen branches and leaves, replaying the moments that had just passed in her head.

"I bet you thought you could get away from me."

She stood and looked around. A cynical, amused voice surrounded her. She held onto herself and charged her blue energy with both hands. "Victor... How did you... where are you..?"

The light emanating from her hands dimly lit a radius of five feet all around her, but she couldn't see any trace of him.

She heard him laugh at her cruelly. She began to panic.

"And here I was, thinking you were so helpless."

"Victor, please." She turned quickly straining her eyes to see beyond the limitations of the light she was making. "Please don't hurt me... I... I don't want to fight with you..." Her heart was pounding in her chest, she spun frantically.

She heard a thump behind her. He had jumped out of the tree she was leaning against moments earlier. Before she could spin and face him, he already had one hand holding her wrists together above her head, and the other keeping her firmly against his body. "Why don't you get rid of that little blue light?" He said into her ear.

She complied, allowing the energy to dissipate. Darkness surrounded them.

"Atta girl." She heard his lips slide across his teeth as he smiled smugly. "Now do you want me to help you or not?"

She shook with fear, and neglected to answer.

"Do you?" She felt his claws lengthen, curling further around her wrists and waist.

"Please don't hurt me." She whispered breathlessly. "Please."

"Aren't you polite..." He snarled.

She hated herself for it, and tried to suppress it, but she cried against her will again. She was terrified. She was certain he was about to kill her.

"You're coming with me whether you want to or not." His grip loosened and he let her go. "Come on... we're taking a train in the morning."

She stood with her back to him, confused. She didn't want to be near him any longer. She didn't want to even look at him. She wiped her face with her fist like a child would, knowing it was futile to fight him again.

Against her better judgement, she turned and climbed onto his back again, crying into his shoulder. He carried her to another motel. They registered for a room with two small beds. Zoya followed Victor into the new motel room, and the pair settled into their separate beds, falling asleep immediately.

Chapter 7 coming very soon.


	7. Copycat

The next morning was awkward. Zoya and Victor did not say one word to each other after they woke up and traveled to the train station. They sat separate from one another on the train, seldom looking at each other for the entire duration of the trip. Zoya suspected Victor preferred her silence over the constant questions she barraged him with the day before. She sunk deeply into her seat, her eyes fixated on the window, contemplating the recent events that led her to this moment. The murders felt distant already. Her mind replayed the attempted rape over and over again, causing her to question whether or not she should even attempt to leave Victor's side and find somewhere to accept her on her own. She looked back at him. He sat two rows behind her and across the aisle. He was also staring out the window, but she assumed he was not debating about his personal safety.

She returned her gaze to the window, sighing quietly under her breath. She couldn't assimilate with humans any longer. They'd find her and execute her, but would mutants be any safer? Victor was the first other mutant she had met, and he was by her standards an evil individual. He killed for pleasure. He had nearly raped her. It was as if he lacked any sort of consciousness, as if he were some sort of animal.

The train rolled to a stop and Zoya stood from her seat, ready to follow Victor to another hotel paid for by another anonymous client. She'd spend another night with somebody hired to kill unsuspecting people. She waited for him to walk past her, then stepped behind him. They left the train and he led her to a rented car. He climbed into the driver's seat, she in the passenger's, and they left the train station, barely looking at one another.

They were traveling along a rural road. Zoya watched the trees fly past with a bored expression. She wiggled her toes in a pair of sandals too big for her feet that she had stolen from another person's luggage at the train station.

Victor slammed on the breaks, causing her to fly forward in her seat, nearly hitting her nose on the dashboard if not for the safety belt restraining her. She looked up, gripping both the door and Victor's arm for support to see what he had stopped for. There was a woman in the middle of the road. Her skin was pale blue and her eyes had no pupils. Her hair was long, wild and white and it danced around her shoulders as the breeze passed through it. She wore what looked like a white, leather leotard.

Victor was glaring out the window at her, his hands gripping the steering wheel. He stepped out of the car deliberately, slamming the door behind him. Zoya was unsure if she should stay put or follow. She watched as he approached her, stopping to lengthen his claws. The woman was smirking, challenging him to attack with her smile.

Zoya got out of the car and stood beside the door, drawing the woman's attention to her for the first time. The woman observed her from top to bottom, scanning her figure. Her white hair shortened to her shoulders and darkened to the color of a chocolate bar. Eyebrow-length bangs formed, her skin lightened from blue to a pale flesh-tone. Like a drop of ink spreading on a cotton cloth, her eyes seemed to grow pupils and brown irises in a matter of seconds, and before Zoya could comprehend what was happening, she was staring at her mirror image charging blue energy from her hands.

Victor barreled toward her, leaping and tackling her, his arm outstretched and ready to sink his claws into her face. She pushed her hands into his chest, sending him flying into the front of the rented car. He wasn't moving. Zoya looked from the fallen Victor to the woman who had somehow transformed herself into her identical twin. The mystery woman focused her attention onto Zoya and charged at her, generating more blue smoking light from her hands, raising her fist, ready to strike. Zoya panicked, backing away, lifting a fallen branch from three yards away and sending it zooming in front of the woman's legs, causing her to trip and grind her chin into the ground. Once her hands, charged with kinetic energy hit the road, blasts of indigo light reamed toward Zoya. She jumped with an acrobatic quality she didn't know she possessed, onto the trunk of the car to avoid the lights as the flew into nearby trees, knocking them back into the surrounding forest.

Victor was standing again, lunging at the imposter, only burying his claws into the road as she rolled out of the way. She began to lift the car telekinetically with great strain, the real Zoya clinging onto the rear window. He growled as he slashed at her shoulder, causing her to break the connection with the car. It crashed down onto the road, sending Zoya off of the trunk to meet gravel.

She watched the woman shape shift again, growing taller. Facial hair sprouted along the sides of her changing face. She was becoming Victor and inheriting not only his appearance, but brute strength, deadly claws and healing ability. The deep scratches on her shoulder healed immediately, and the two circled each other. Zoya scrambled upward and watched them, now perfectly matched. She couldn't tell which Victor was the one she arrived with anymore.

The duplicates swung at each other violently, their wounds healing as soon as they were carved. Zoya ran out before the two, crouching down onto her knees and rekindled the neon blue flames in her hands. "VICTOR." She screamed.

One of the twins looked in her direction, the other one didn't respond. Zoya slammed her hands into the ground, sending energy racing along the ground toward the one who didn't react, on impact sending the duplicate flying in an arch, crashing into the gravel road a few yards away from where they were standing.

The Victor who looked when she called his name barreled toward the duplicate, growling, stretching his arm out and sinking his claws into it's skull as it struggled to stand. It's eyes opened wide, it's mouth stretched open, gasping. It's irises faded to white, it's body shrunk, and it's skin slowly transitioned back to blue. Her body collapsed as Victor removed his claws from her head, blood and brain tissue stuck underneath his fingernails.

Zoya stared with wide eyes, immobilized by the sight.

Victor heaved, his chest lifting as he inhaled. He was smiling wildly as he stared at the body. He then turned suddenly, walking back toward the car, opening the driver's side door and turning the key. The car groaned but did not start.

"I guess we're walking then. Come on." He said dryly. He walked ahead of her, and she followed him.

Chapter 8 coming soon.


	8. Reflection

They walked together for about an hour in silence, Zoya staying slightly behind Victor. He walked with his hands in the pockets of his trench coat. He took long strides and kept his focus forward.

"Did you know that woman?" Zoya finally said to him, her voice quiet.

"What woman?" He said, turning his head to the left.

She paused, hesitating to persist. "Who was she?"

"Some slut. Friend of a friend."

"Why did she try to kill us?"

"There are a lot of people who want to kill me." He looked back at her, his eyebrows raised, suggesting that he suspected that she herself wouldn't mind killing him as well.

She looked down at the gravel road, not acknowledging his facial expression. She didn't know how she felt about him. He saved her life. He killed her boyfriend. He tried to rape her, but he continued to help her even though it was clear he'd rather be alone. She didn't have anybody else. His voice was always dry, sarcastic. She definitely hated that, it made everything she said seem pointless.

Victor looked forward again. "We'll be here for a couple days. Try not to destroy the hotel room this time."

She held her tongue.

The road began to wind, and not before long they found themselves walking through a small town full of pick-up trucks, vintage country-style houses and small, family-owned shops. Zoya looked at her reflection in the windows as they passed. The bruise Tom left her on her cheek was still red, but was mostly faded.

The towns people gawked at them, as if they knew that they were unnatural. Victor's long coat and solid black wardrobe stood out, and his face carried an air of ill intention. Zoya's arms and face were visibly still bruised from days before. She looked and felt ragged as she walked behind him, her arms folded and shoulders slumped.

The pair were walking toward the tallest building in the area, a three story rustic-themed hotel. They entered the quaint lobby and checked in. The woman at the front desk was petite and matronly. She hesitantly smiled with a concerned face at Victor's sharp, dirty fingernails as she handed him their room key.

Their room was on the first floor, and was considerably larger than any of the previous rooms they had stayed in. The bed had deep red sheets with white pinstripes and a solid wood headboard. There was a framed photo above the bed of a family portrait from the 19th century, and across from the bed was a wooden dresser and television stand. There was a small kitchen area with a miniature refrigerator and sink near the door. Beside the television was a homely looking area with an ovular, hand-crafted rug and love seat.

Victor sized up the room before disappearing out the door without a word. Zoya watched him go and took a seat at the foot of the bed. She found the remote and turned on the television. She sighed and leaned back, allowing her body to relax. She rubbed her face with the palms of both of her hands and thought of the woman with blue skin she had watched her travel mate murder.

_There are a lot of people who want to kill me._ Victor's voice echoed in her head. How many people had he killed since she joined him? His hands were covered in blood the night he tried to rape her. _I mix business with pleasure. _He relished murder. His face looked so smug when he killed the blue-skinned woman... when he killed Tom.

She did want to kill him. She ran her fingers through her hair, thinking of Tom's disemboweled body, and the cruel face he wore when he was attacking her. She wished it were Victor she had killed with her power rather than Aaron. She wished she hadn't joined him. She started to silently cry with frustration. Even though she wanted so badly to escape, she knew that such an attempt would be illogical. He was stronger than she was, faster too, and even if she ran as far and fast as she could, she understood that his keen tracking senses would find her. She had seen his body heal itself. If she were to be lucky enough to blow a hole in his chest, it would just heal, and he would hunt her again.

She felt trapped. She rolled onto her side and pushed her face into the plush comforter. She lied there in self-pity and self-loathing for close to fifteen minutes. She sniffled pathetically, attempting to calm herself down.

"Two more days..." she said quietly to herself. She only had tonight, the next day, and one more morning to endure Victor's companionship, and then she'd be free of him and surrounded by others like her. Her tears began to subside. She sat up again, embarrassed by her emotional state. She wiped her face and looked around the bedroom.

She stood and entered the bathroom. She removed her clothes and looked at her fading bruises in the mirror before drawing a warm bath for herself. She made sure the door was locked before climbing in to the soothing water. She allowed her limbs to float, and she sunk her chest until her chin was hovering just above the water's surface.


	9. Thief

Zoya started coughing. She sat up, shivering and looking around the bathroom frantically. She gasped, breathing deeply. She had fallen asleep in the bathtub. She inhaled water when her body slid deeper into the cold water that surrounded her. She stood and stumbled out of the tub, grabbing a towel and drying herself quickly. She put her clothes back on and twisted the towel into a turban atop her head. She opened the bathroom door only a sliver and peeked out into the hotel room. It was empty.

Her eyebrows scrunched together, causing her to make a confused face. She checked the clock in the bathroom. It read seven o'clock and she could tell by the light coming from the windows that it was seven in the morning. She laughed a little bit and left the bathroom. She couldn't believe she had slept through the entire night in the bathtub, and as a bonus, Victor had apparently not returned yet. She plopped onto the bed and watched the TV she had left on from the night before.

Normally Zoya would carefully count calories and take great concern to what kind of food and how much she ate, but she justified ordering a hearty pancake breakfast from room service with the fact that she really hadn't eaten in a couple of days.

She was feeling cheerful for the first time since she told Tom that she was a mutant. She couldn't explain to herself what caused her upswing in mood. Maybe it was the large meal she was going to enjoy, or even the eight hour bath she slept through. Perhaps it was not having to see Victor for more than several hours. This was, after all, the last night she'd have to deal with him. Tomorrow she'd arrive at the mutant community she was promised, a prospect that made her nervous, but delighted nonetheless.

After enjoying her breakfast alone, she left the hotel room to explore the amenities of the building. There was a small room with three arcade machines. Two young boys stood side by side playing a fighting game. She continued down the hall and discovered a sauna room with hot tub. She peered in, silently wishing she had a swimsuit handy.

She turned a corner to find another girl about her age struggling to feed a vending machine a wrinkly one dollar bill. Zoya ducked back around the corner, looking around to see if the hall ways were empty. The girl had a suitcase sitting behind her. That suitcase no doubt had clean clothes in it. She had already stolen a pair of flip flops from somebody's luggage at the train station. She felt morally conflicted, and peered her head around the corner again, watching the girl's dollar get rejected once more. She had killed one person and helped kill another already. Stealing a suitcase should be the last thing to make her feel guilty. She levitated the suitcase above the girl's head carefully, making sure to stay focused and silent. The girl inserted her dollar again. The machine finally accepted it. She made her selection, reached down to grab her snack. She then turned around to grab her suitcase, and was startled to see that it wasn't there. She spun, looking around her desperately for her floating luggage.

The girl began to walk away, perhaps to check the lobby. Zoya sighed and let the luggage fall from the ceiling. She walked away, her hands in her pants pockets, slightly embarrassed that she even attempted to steal another person's luggage. The flip flops were at least something she needed. She went back to her room and closed the door, leaning against it and sighing. She laughed to herself after a moment, imagining the look on the girl's face when she turned around to see her luggage in the middle of the hall.


	10. Return

Zoya spent the majority of the day in the hotel room, ordering room service on every whim and watching day time television. The hours stretched on, and before she knew it, the day had gone and it was night again.

She yawned and looked at the clock. It was nearly nine and she hadn't seen Victor since the day prior. She wasn't concerned, but curious as to his extended disappearance. She mused to herself how fortunate she would be if he had decided to abandon her.

It had been so silent all day, that the sudden click of the door opening startled her. The room was dark, so she reached over and turned the beside lamp on in time to see Victor walk purposefully into the room. His hands were once again covered in blood. Zoya sat up, her back completely straight as she watched him stride across the room, paying no attention to her. He went into the bathroom and shut the door. After a few moments she heard the shower start.

The day had been largely relaxing and carefree for Zoya until Victor returned. She suddenly felt tense and resentful again. She had foolishly imagined all day of a utopian mutant community, boosting her confidence with the fact that she would only have to survive one more night with a killer. The sight of his blood soaked claws was sobering.

She heard the shower stop after close to twenty minutes. Victor emerged from the bathroom holding his black, button up shirt and trench coat. He set them down on the couch and looked at Zoya as she sat upward on the bed, her legs curled to her chest. She could feel his eyes on her, following the curves of her body, but she ignored him in favor of the black-and-white family sitcom on television.

He laughed, causing Zoya to finally look up at him. His fanged smile was clearly menacing. She felt her blood grow warm within her, her limbs were tense. She understood his intentions just by looking at the expression on his face.

He approached her. She ignited her hands, but he was too fast. He grabbed her wrists tightly and brought his face close to hers, staring into her eyes.

"You're not going to fight me this time."

She stared back into his face, breathing from her mouth. "Don't do this..." She said, trying to wrestle her arms away from his iron grip.

"Put away your little light show." He demanded, the tone of his voice amused and cynical.

She did not comply. She shook her head and looked down, already sniffling. She knew it was pointless to fight, but she continued to charge. The smoking, neon blue light grew brighter.

She could feel his claws slide across her skin as they grew longer. Her body shook. He was growing more frustrated.

"I don't have to play these games with you." His voice became more forceful. He shook her, speaking through clenched teeth. "I'll take your head off right now. You know you can't win."

Zoya continued to look down, not allowing him to see her cry. She bit her bottom lip and shook her head again, refusing to let the energy dissipate from her hands. Her heart was pounding. She loathed him. She didn't want him touching her, but she knew she couldn't win.

He growled, lifting her from the bed and flinging her into the floor. The energy appeared to evaporate from her upon impact, and she cried out in pain. She frantically lifted the framed photo from the wall and sent it flying at him. He deflected it without looking. She tried again using a drawer from the dresser. He clawed at it, shattering it, causing shards of broken wood to fall over her. He lifted her by her shirt, tearing it, and threw her face first into the bed. She kicked at him, screaming. He leaned over and grabbed her hair, raising her head and neck from the bed. He positioned his other hand beneath her and pushed his face right beside her ear.

He shook her head above his claws, clenching her hair in his fist. She gasped and sobbed. "D-don't kill me..." she stuttered breathlessly.

"Don't fight me." He snarled, continuing to threaten her with his claws dangerously close to her neck. He held her there, listening to her sobs, until her body relaxed. He dropped her head, yanking her pants down to her knees.

She heard his zipper fall. It felt like hours to her. He was holding onto her hips, his claws shallowly pierced her skin. She could hear his ruthless breaths, the sound of the mattress springs, her own muffled screams and the laugh track from the television.

When it was finally over he leaned forward, smiling at the back of her head. "You really should feel lucky." Victor chided. "Normally, I'd kill you now." He stood and watched her. She also stood with her back to him, her body shaking. She pulled her pants back up slowly. She was enraged, hurt, confused. She was experiencing a plethora of emotions and was unable to process them all. She stumbled across the room and sat on the love seat, pulling her legs to her chest and hugging them tightly. She rested her forehead against her knees and remained unmoving.

He sat on the bed and turned off the television and the lamp. He lied down in the darkness. The room grew quite still. Eventually Zoya could only hear the sound of her own unsteady breath as she shuddered, trying to make sense of what just occurred.

The next chapter is the finale. :)


	11. The Truth

Zoya did not sleep willingly. She sat, staring at Victor's dark, sleeping figure as his chest rose and fell with each breath. Her emotions were so frantic and her mind so racing that it physically burdened her.

She awoke the next morning by a sharp jab to her shoulder. She jumped, startled and unaware that so much time had passed. She didn't look up at Victor as she stood from the couch, making sure to distance herself from him.

"We need to leave." His voice was cold and impersonal.

Zoya didn't react. She just stood, silent and still, waiting until he turned and began to walk out the door. She followed him, unable to even look at his back. She imagined charging her powers and blasting him. She wanted him to incinerate. She wanted him to feel defenseless.

They left the hotel, and she followed him to a truck she assumed he either stole or rented the night before. She didn't care about it's origin, only that it was going to bring her to the mutant community she was promised. She climbed into the passenger's seat and buckled her seatbelt. She could feel the cold leather seat against her skin where Victor had torn her shirt. She shuddered, closing her eyes with a look of discontent. He climbed in after her, starting the truck and leaving the hotel.

They rode in silence for hours. Zoya couldn't help but fall asleep for short periods of time as she watched the scenery fly by from the window. After five hours they were half way there, and Victor pulled over to a rest area to stretch his legs. Zoya hopped out also to use the bathroom and to use her last two dollars to buy a bottled water. She returned to the truck to find him waiting in the driver's seat. She settled into the cab again and looked out of the window. He took the water from her hands without asking and drank from it. She reached across him and snatched it back, spilling water across his lap and the seat, while giving him a hateful look.

He looked at her, a little surprised and smiling slightly at the corners of his mouth. He laughed after a moment. She screwed the cap back on and looked out the window once more, folding her arms across his chest. Her blood was boiling. She wanted to scream and cry all at once. She tried to calm herself by thinking about their destination, assuring herself she only had a few more hours to spend with him.

They left and re-entered the highway. Zoya sat stewing, fighting back tears as she replayed the night before over and over again in her head. He acted as though nothing had happened, and he seemed smug as if he felt he were entitled to her body. A few stray tears rolled down her cheek and she quickly wiped them away.

"Why did you do that to me?" She asked quietly, her voice and lips trembling.

"What?" Victor looked at her out of the corner of his eye, smiling slightly. His voice was flat, yet dryly amused.

Zoya screamed, charging her fists and punching him repeatedly in the arm, chest and thigh. Her charges were mild and didn't seem to have much effect without allowing them to strengthen over time.

Victor swerved the truck into the other lane of traffic, narrowly avoiding a collision with another vehicle as it slammed on it's breaks, honking wildly. He snarled and grabbed her by the throat, lengthening his claws menacingly and slamming her against the passenger side door, holding her still at arm's length while maintaining control of the steering wheel with the other hand.

She gasped, grabbing at his arm desperately, trying to pry his grip from her neck.

He glanced at her and continued to hold her until he felt her body begin to weaken. He breathed deeply, slowly letting her go. She collapsed in her seat, dizzy and still feeling furious. She allowed herself to cry out of frustration and buried her face into her palms.

He gripped the steering wheel with both hands now. His claws slowly retracted.

"I saved your life." He growled. "I could have killed you a hundred times."

She didn't respond. She refused to willingly look at him let alone speak.

Victor continued to drive. The sun sunk low in the sky, giving the earth around them a pink and orange glow. She sat up straighter in her seat as she read a sign welcoming them to Colorado. Her heart pounded as she realized how near to freedom she was becoming.

"We still have about an hour, it's not too far." Victor said, noticing her posture improve with a sideways glance.

Zoya ignored him, her gaze firmly fixated on the passing landscape.

Victor looked at the clock periodically as he drove. He could tell Zoya was excited to be rid of him and to join a community of mutants. He felt a pang of guilt. The pair now only had roughly thirty minutes together.

"You know, it's really unfortunate." Victor said, tapping his long fingernails against the leather steering wheel. As he expected, he was greeted with silence. "I really liked you."

Zoya scoffed, but continued to ignore him. His voice was as dry as it ever was. The underlying sarcasm felt like bugs crawling on her skin, causing the hair on her neck to stand with irritation.

Victor scratched at the stitching on the steering wheel with one of his long, dirty fingernails. "I work for a lot of people..." He glanced at her again. Her body was stiff, but he could tell she was listening. "...but I don't always have to kill my target."

She turned her head slowly, her eyebrows furrowed. She looked at him with a confused face, and fingered her seatbelt.

"I didn't have to keep you alive..." He was smiling slightly now. "I guess I'm not all bad."

"Where are you bringing me?" She was shaking with rage. She wished that looks could kill as she glowered at him. She noticed that they were now growing closer to low, flat building surrounded by barbed wire.

"They're paying me a lot of money to bring you here. If circumstances were different... well..."

Zoya trembled. Her fists were clenched so tightly she could feel her own fingernails digging into her palms. She stared at his face. She could see one of his sharp fangs in his smug smile. Her hands had accumulated energy without her even realizing it. She didn't care whether or not fighting him would be futile. She swung her fist into his cheek. The force of the charged punch was so great, he crashed through the door of the truck and rolled into the road. She stared in disbelief at the door, dented and hanging open.

A sudden jolt sent her bursting forward, causing her to hit her cheek on the dashboard. She was dazed, but had enough sense to realize that the truck had crashed. She frantically undid her seatbelt and slid across the bench seat and out of the driver's side door. She had trouble standing and gripped onto the truck for support. She noticed military personnel running from the building she had noticed earlier. The truck was lodged into the barbed wire fence. She looked behind her and saw Victor's ragged body lying in the road.

The soldiers had guns fixated on her. She ripped the firearms from their hands and cast sent them flying away from them. They scrambled to retrieve them. Victor was rising already. Her heart was pounding, her mind was a blur. She heaved for breath and fell to her knees, overcome by a swirling sensation, as if the world around her were spinning. She touched her cheek and looked at her fingers. She was bleeding.

She looked up again. Victor was right beside her. He grabbed her by the neck and threw her across the concrete road, sending her rolling toward a metal gate. She coughed and tried to regain her posture, but he was beside her again, lifting her this time by the top of her arm. He dragged her through the gate. A man in a clean, black suit was approaching them. Zoya couldn't make out any distinguishing features. She was seeing double, and both images were bright and blurred.

Victor flung her forward. She landed at the man's feet. She closed her eyes and groaned. She felt cold, sandy rubber on her cheek. The man was examining her by pushing her face with his shoe. She opened her eyes halfway.

"Good job, Victor. You brought her here alive. That's double, then." The suited man said with an outstretched hand.

"I think I deserve triple for the hassle." She heard Victor's cold growl. She wanted to continue to fight but could barely muster the strength to turn her head.

"That is probably fair." The two men shook hands. "O'reilly, Gonzales. Bring the mutant in and prep her for testing. I don't want to waste any time."

"Yes, sir." Zoya was lifted by both arms. She wasn't given the chance to catch up with her feet, but was instead dragged away from Victor and the man in the black suit, their conversation becoming inaudible as she lost consciousness.

This is the end of For Reasons Unknown! Thank you for reading it. I had a good time writing it, even though I'm no writer.

I'd like to write a sequel eventually, so I'll update with a link to the new story if and when I get around to it.

Thanks again, guys.

I have finally started a sequel, please check out my author page, or visit here, without the spaces.

http:/ www . fanfiction . net / s / 7233725 / 1 /


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